sustenance. But this sum, which we will
call eightpence—the odd halfpenny in the
stoppages being placed to the account of
"washing"—provides him with everything
he strictly requires in the way of meat; and
an extra penny for "beer-money" supplies
him with "drink." This "eightpence" gives
him a pound of good bread, half of which he
eats at breakfast with a canteen-full of tea or
coffee, according to the nature of the mess,
and the other half he disposes of with his
"pound of flesh," which is not eaten after
Shylock's receipt, but rather more à la Soyer,
in the shape of well-boiled meat and good
soup, and accompanied by potatoes, onions,
and other vegetable condiments. If anything
remains out of the eightpence, which, when
prices are high, is a somewhat rare
occurrence, an evening repast of tea or coffee is
added, with such a portion of bread as may
have been saved from the preceding meals.
That this meal ought not, however, to be a
rarity, but a regular thing, will be admitted
by all who consider that, unless he provides
himself, the soldier has nothing to eat from
one o'clock in the day till eight the following
morning,—a fast of nineteen hours.*
*We are glad to perceive (while this article was being
written) that advantage has been taken of the existing low
price of provisions, and that the condition of the soldier
serving in the Colonies, with regard to the stoppage exacted
for his ration, has, very recently, been under the
consideration of the Government, and that it is intended to
reduce the rate from five-pence, at which it stands at
present, to threepence-halfpenny. The necessity for this
step has been made apparent in the evidence taken before
the Committee on Army and Ordnance Expenditure; and
the effect of lowering the cost of the ration of one pound
of meat and one pound of bread to threepence-halfpenny,
will be to leave to the soldier abroad eightpence-halfpenny,
out of which he will provide himself with other articles of
food conducive to his health and comfort.

The soldier's dinner is, however, a good
one, and ought to be so; for, besides that
the provisions are always good, military cooks
serve their apprenticeship to that as well as
to other duties; two men per Company being
off duty, for that purpose, at intervals long
enough to give them some knowledge of the
art. There are various superintendents to
have an eye upon the cooks' proceedings;
the old hands who have dabbled in the
mystery; the quarter-master serjeant, who
weighs out the materials for it; and the
officer of the day, who inspects the kettles
before they are removed from the kitchens,
besides attending afterwards, when the messes
are actually served out, and ascertaining that
all is right, by personal observation and
particular inquiry.

With regard to a body of workmen in a
factory, or other large establishment, why, we
ask, should not some such system be adopted
as prevails in the army? A quarter-master
might easily be found to purchase provisions
at wholesale prices; cooking places could
always be obtained, and persons honest and
skilful enough procured to prepare meals of
an excellent description; and those at an
individual cost far less than the daily outlay
of each workman who provides his own
dinner how and where he can.

The dream of an easy life in the army had
been almost dissipated by six months' drill, but
not quite. The comparative freedom which
the old soldier enjoyed, was looked upon with
envy and yearning by Maurice Savage,
before his name was included in the roster of
effective men. But when the experience of a
few weeks had made it clear to him what a
soldier's life, even in "piping time of peace,"
really was, he came to the conclusion that,
one way or another, he was as much worked
in his military capacity as if he had stuck to
his bucolical pursuits, though the work was
of a different description. Like the ploughman
or the common labourer, his work was
cut out for him as soon as he opened his
eyes in the morning. Instead of a team of
horses he had a set of accoutrements to look
after, belts to pipeclay, pouch to polish,
knapsack to pack, and arms to keep in order
—a harder task at first than yoking Boxer
and Badger. Instead of turning over a nine-
acre field at his own clod-hopping pace, he
had to traverse the same extent of ground in
ordinary, in quick, in double, in every variety
of "time," with fourteen pounds' weight of
musket and bayonet on his shoulders, and
more than double that load on his back in
the shape of a full knapsack, folded great
coat and canteen; in that condition, in short,
which is known as being "in heavy marching
order." Not always, of course, but often
enough to convince him that "playing at
soldiers" was as serious a pursuit as whistling
at the plough, let the clay-soil be as stiff
as you please. Then there came guard-
mounting—with breakfast between, where
the full private had the advantage of the
ploughman, if not in quantity, at all events
in quality and comfort—but the duty involved
in mounting guard, though not so laborious
as carting manure, was more particular as
well as more fragrant. A day's work in the
fields is, after all, but a day's work, while
mounting guard is an occupation which not
only includes the day but the night also. To
say nothing of the loneliness or remoteness of
the post, the fact of being on sentry for eight
hours out of the twenty-four, and half that
time in the dark, under the heaviest penalty
if sleep should be indulged in, was not so
agreeable in practice, as turning in to the
loft or flock-bed and snoring till daylight.
When it happened also, from the nature of
the garrison, the number of sick in hospital
and other causes, that the troops have only
three or perhaps two nights in bed, the
pleasure of guard-mounting is not very
greatly enhanced in the estimation of a heavy
sleeper.

However, without pursuing the contrast
between military and agricultural pursuits
any further, it may be enough to say that
Maurice Savage found that the former gave
him quite as much to do as the latter, and